Waiting for the Boogie Man

June 30

Ok ... this is the third afternoon after chemo.  This is the day when the side effects are supposed to kick in.  Yep.  This is the day.  

Well, I have a few:

I'm cold.  Been cold all day.  It's 103-degrees outside and I'm cold?  I'll take it.

I have a little heartburn.  Zantac takes it away.

AND THAT'S IT!!

I've waited all day and nothin.'  I'm thinking the Boogie Man isn't gonna visit me.  

Look what a friend sent me yesterday.  Isn't it the BEST thing for someone who's supposed to eat well and who detests going to the grocery store?  I'm so grateful for my friends.

A Chicken ... Again!

June 28

I can't believe I was so nervous (again) about another procedure.  Well ... this was a fairly important procedure.  It was my first day of chemo which meant they stuck a needle in my port so the chemo could be administered through a tube attached to the needle.  Mind you, my port was still a little sensitive so I couldn't imagine sticking a needle in there.  Terrible, right?  Uh, NO.  I frickin' didn't feel a thing.  Can't believe how blessed I've been.  Again. 

Here are some pictures of the day:

Who's the man?  That, my friends, is my ex-husband.  He was in town and wanted to be with me for the first day.  We have a MUCH better relationship/friendship now than when we were married.  Ha!  I truly love and respect this man ... and he feels the same about me.  Awwwww.  So blessed.  He's there with our little pregnant daughter, Emily.  She's always there!

Here I am before the nurse inserted the needle.  Only a few, very wise and wonderful women will understand the significance of this photo.  Leave a comment if you 'get it.'  hehe!

First thing the nurse did before I started chemo was draw blood for the lab.  I don't know if you can tell, but the vial for the blood is empty.  That means the port isn't working.  Not good.  

Let's try it again ... lean back a little and raise your arm. Check out the vial.  Empty.

Lean back even some more and take deep breaths.  Very deep breaths.  Vial: Nada.

Right after this picture, I turned toward the nurse and literally pushed my blood into all three vials.  Done.  Easy Peasy.  Wait for the very last picture in this post. It will give you chills.

I had a visit with my doctor's PA, then back to the infusion room to start this journey.  On the left in this picture is the drug that will kill some very specific, fast-growing cells.  In order to be sure you don't have a reaction to the drug, they infuse it very slowly ... over 1-1/2 hours.  Lovin' that miracle drug no matter how long it takes to infuse!

I had some very special visitors today in addition to the "precious duo."  My son came with a "Survivor" Susan G. Komen bag filled with all kinds of wonderful goodies.  He's modeling one of them here:

Ryan also brought a special card for me from my younger granddaughter, Charlotte, aged 4!

And a movie from little Clark explaining why he couldn't come up to see me:

One of my best friends came with the most wonderful cookies.  She left the cookies that we didn't eat with the nurses.  She's so thoughtful that way.  Also, she and my son make me laugh and laugh.  Gotta love the laughter, especially in the chemo room, right?

Look at the view from my infusion room!  Ah-maz-ing.

Here's my twinnie sitting through the whole procedure.  It took FIVE hours to infuse two chemos and the miracle drug today.  That's a very long time to sit ... and sit ... and sit.

My little granddaughter, Sophia, stopped by with her dad for just a second.  They came up to take mommy home.  Her baby should be here within the next two weeks and she gets very tired, but she still comes with me.  Such a sweetie.

Before she left, Sophia showed us her dress and new school shoes:

Last picture. Promise. I saw the image below in the bathroom mirror and asked my sister to take a picture of it.  She asked why.  Well, I think you have to see it through a camera.  This is where the needle was stuck into my port.  Gives me goose bumps. 

All in all, it was a pretty good day for such a dreaded, fearful experience.  I walked out of the clinic feeling the exact same way I felt when I walked in this morning.  Without the fear. I'm blessed, ya'll!!

When Life Gives You Lemons ...

July 27
...  you stop at the lemonade stand.  Seriously.  How many times have you driven by a child's lemonade stand and just kept going?  I've done it too many times to admit.  Well, breast cancer has already changed me, or so I thought, until this evening when I drove right past a little lemonade stand close to my house.  I always feel guilty when I do that, but I always have an excuse. Too busy. Too hot.  And my excuse tonight? ... I have breast cancer and I'm tired.  I really did think that.  I haven't even started chemo yet, for pete's sake!

Whoa there, Miss Breast-Cancer-has already-changed-my-life.  I made a U-turn and went back to that little lemonade stand to buy lemonade and a homemade cookie. Breast cancer ... be damned.  I have all the time in the world now to stop and buy lemonade and see those adorable smiles.  Breast cancer is changing my perspective on what's really important in my life.  Tonight, those children were much more important than the heat or being busy or tired.  See?  Breast cancer can do that to you.

Check back tomorrow.  I'll tell you all about my first chemo treatment.  It's gonna be a good day!

And this is the reason why I will be a survivor:

A Lesson or A Blessing

June 26
I'm going to be brutally honest here.  I hope you don't mind.  Here's the deal: PLEASE do not tell me about anyone who has died from breast cancer.  I only want to hear about the survivors.  You can tell me all the survivor stories you know.  That works really well for me.  We all know at least one woman who has died with breast cancer, but damn ... I don't want to hear about any others.  When you're talking to women who are newly diagnosed with breast cancer, we just want to hear the survivor stories because I, for certain, will be a survivor.  

Today, I received an email from an old sorority sister (yes, we're old ... we started college in 1964!  Man, that's OLD).  My friend wrote many of us who were all friends back then and told us about another friend who died recently from breast cancer.  It shook me on so many levels.  I'm glad I got the news about my old friend, but I don't like the news.  Makes me both sad and scared.  

Chemo starts on Thursday.  It's going to be a trip, I'll tell you.  I'm looking forward to meeting lots of women who are my breast cancer sisters and lots of beautiful, wonderful nurses.  As my brother-in-law tells me, "Everything in life is either a lesson or a blessing."  This journey will be a both a lesson AND a blessing for me.  

And if you tell me about someone who died from breast cancer, I'll sic this bad boy on you:

P. S.  Is it died "from" or died "of?"

The Truth

July 25

Ok ... I'll admit it ... I'm getting a little scared about this chemo thing.  If my port is healed enough, I'll be starting it this Thursday, July 28.  I wish I could cancel and reschedule for next year. Or when I turn 90.  I don't wanna go.  i don't wanna go.  I DON'T WANNA GO.  I guess I'll have to go.  Durnit.

Today I tried to do the little things that would make me feel better.  I went to my twinnie's house and played with hats.  This is the one she picked out for me.  She's modeling it here:

Well, at least it caused us to laugh!  Laughing is good, you know.

Then I saw my granddaughter, Sophia, and she made me this:

It's another bookmark!  She forgot to put her name on the back, so she just wrote it on a piece of paper and glued it down.  Very crafty little chickie, huh?  Gotta love it.

Later in the day, I decided to give myself a gift from me:

A pedicure! Yeah, baby!!

By the end of the day, I wasn't so scared.  And that's the truth.

What Happens When You Need Cheering Up?

June 23

... five friends and a twin sister show up at your house for a little "Stitch and Bitch."  Oh, how very blessed I am.  Beyond belief.  These women are so important to me.  It's amazing how a night of laughing can make me feel like a new person.  Lovin' the laughter.  Lovin' the friends, too, and my twinnie, of course.  Thank you from the bottom of my heart, girlies.

Leigh Ann brought the most amazing strawberry pie with homemade whipped cream and fresh strawberries.  Yum.  She promised that she'd bring me another one tomorrow.  Not really.  Dang.  I think I'll tell her during chemo that the only thing I can eat is that wonderful pie.  I gotta milk it, right?  Use that cancer for all it's worth.  Ha!

Special Gifts I've Received

July 22

Since my diagnosis I've received some very, very special gifts from friends and family.  

My twin sister, Claudia, one-half of the "precious duo," made, by hand, this gorgeous, fabulous quilt just for me!  Can I tell you how much this means to me?  I plan to take it to every chemo treatment because I know I'll be cold, but mostly because just touching it is such a comfort.  THANK YOU, HeHe!

I'm sooooo lovin' this quilt!

And here's something else my little twin sister gave me.  She bought two, one for her and one for me, reminding us both of each other.  Awesome.  I love that the little bird's feet are shaped into a heart.  And also, I ADORE birds and Claudia knows it!

Here's a gift from my first granddaughter, Sophia.  She LOVES giving gifts to people.  So sweet.  And so thoughtful.  (It's a bookmark!)

My sweet daughter-in-law, my son, Ryan, and their three beautiful children (grandchildren numbers 1, 3, and 4) brought this to me.  

It's a pocket holding cross ... and it's handmade by a small family-owned business in Bethlehem.  It's purpose is to remind me of God's presence.  It fits perfectly in my hand and is a real blessing.  LOVE it!

My good friend, Megan, gave this to me because she knew how much I would love it.  It's a sand dollar that was her mother's paper weight.

Megan's mother, Dorothy, died several years ago, and I loved her beyond words.  Dorothy was like a mother to me and the sweetest person in the whole world.  Oh, how I loved that woman.  THANK YOU, Megan

And my very good friend, Leigh Ann, gave me this to help me remember how blessed I am.  I've had it on since the day she gave it to me except when I took this picture:

In case you can't read it, it says, "Gratitudes."  Notice that's plural!  I love this bracelet.  It helps keep me focused on what's really important.  And it reminds me of Leigh Ann every day! Love you, Leigh Ann.

Port-A-Connie

June 22

Now what??? 
 Today was the day for my port installation and the "precious duo" was with me, of course, as well as that special friend of mine, Leigh Ann. The port is used for all infusions (like chemo, drawing blood, etc.) so the nurses don't have to find a new vein each time I need an infusion.  I've been told that the port is "my friend."

Here I am right after the procedure.  I don't know why I'm smiling because I really didn't feel like smiling!  This procedure took a lot longer than I thought it would.  (However, during the wait and the procedure, I got FIVE warm blankets!!  I couldn't believe my luck.) There was no general anesthesia for it either ... instead, they used medications for something called "conscious sleep."  Well, I wasn't conscious, but I was asleep.  For almost 24 hours!  Apparently I did the "conscious" part half-way through the procedure so they gave me even MORE medication.  When my sister took this picture, all I wanted to do was go back to sleep.  I'm very sensitive to those "conscious sleep" medications.

Man, what a fake smile is that??

And here's a picture of the bandage over the port and the incision for the tube that they shove down to the jugular vein and back to the port.  Ouch!!

See that redness under the bottom bandage?  I had to go back to the doctor the next morning because I had a reaction to the original tape.  I was so afraid I already had an infection, but the doctor didn't think so. Also, the original tape was on my skin so tightly that I couldn't move my head and it really hurt.  The doctor changed the dressing and the tape and it feels so much better now.  I think the redness will disappear or turn into a big bruise, but I don't care.  At least this procedure is over.  I was really dreading this, but then I've dreaded EVERYthing so far, right?!!

 FYI ... when I finish my last chemo treatment, I'll explain the title of my blog.  (Just in case you were wondering!!)

I start chemo on July 28.  Let's get this party started!  

Bye-Bye Hair

July 19

I promised myself that if I had to have chemo I would cut my hair really, really short and then when it started falling out, I would buzz it.  I didn't want big chunks of hair coming out in my hands when I shampooed it in the shower.  The truth is ... I have a phobia about wet hair in the bathroom whether it's mine or someone else's.  Ewwwww.  It grosses me out.  It really, really grosses me out.

Today, my sister went with me to get it cut. My before picture is over there at the top of the right side bar.

This is me during:

And After:

I must admit that with the over-100-degree temperatures we've been having here in Oklahoma, this haircut is the bomb!  So much cooler.  And, OMG!  It takes 28 seconds to fix it.  Gotta love THAT!

Gulp ... The Oncotype Is Back.

June 15

I had a hard time finding any blessings today, but I DID find this photo I'd taken during the spring.  A typical Oklahoma sunset.  Awesomeness.

Today was the day to get 'the news.'  The "precious duo" was with me, of course.  I knew the Oncotype was back and that I'd hear how we'd proceed. I was shaking in my boots again.  Who me??  Ha!

Dr. G was in his typical form ... smiling, positive, and so, so sweet.  He told me there was good news and bad news.  The good news was that my pet scan and echo were good.  (I already knew this but I didn't have the heart to tell him.  What I really wanted to say was "JUST TELL ME IF I'M HAVING CHEMO OR NOT.")  Then he gave me the bad news:  My oncotype test was "off the graph."  My cure rate without chemo is 66%.  I knew my path reports weren't that good, but I didn't know they were that bad.  However, WITH chemo, my cure rate went up to 83%.  This wasn't especially good news to me ... I wanted to be up there at 95% or more.  I told Dr. G on the spot that I liked my odds WITH chemo and that's what I wanted to do.  Dr. G said he agreed.  Seventeen more percentage points for recurrence/cure was worth the chemo.  I will have 6 chemo treatments ... one every three weeks and and I WILL lose my hair.  But the good news ... it will grow back!  And besides, one of the side effects of chemo is LIFE!  I love that side effect.

I DID find a blessing today after all.  The "precious duo" and I toured the infusion room at the cancer clinic.  It's magnificent!  WOW!  And the nurse who showed us around this wonderful place was another kind and so, so sweet person I've met along the way.

Here are some pics of the infusion room:

There are even private infusion rooms here.  It's first come, first served, so I hope I'm there first and first served!  This clinic is totally cool.

A Very Relaxing Day ... Inside the Pet Scan Machine!

July 11

Today was another testing day and, of course, I was worried about this one, too.  Today I had a pet scan and an echocardiogram (a fancy name for a heart ultrasound).  There were lots of blessings on this day.  The main blessing was that my son, Jason, (who is moving from LA to DC) happened to be in town and went with the "precious duo" and me for my tests.  It's always nice to have a man around, right?

Here's one of my favorite pictures of Jason.  He's with my first grandchild, Clark, and his first nephew.  Awwwww.  Isn't it sweet? They just LOVE each other.  And, by the way, my son has an identical twin brother and I have an identical twin sister.  Odd, huh?

The pet scan had me a little rattled at first.  The tech who started the IV (before the scan) blew the vein in my hand.  I've never in my whole life had this happen and it hurt.  It was probably the worst hurt I've had through all of this, but still, it wasn't THAT bad.  After resolving that little bump in the road, she told me that I had to drink barium.  Oh, no one ever told me I'd have to do THAT.  Are you kidding me?  She told me I had a choice of flavors:  lemonade, grape, orange, pina colada, and a few more I don't remember. Then she said the magical words, "And whatever flavor I mentioned, the drink will taste exactly like it."  She wasn't lying, either.  I chose lemonade and it tasted just like lemonade!  I couldn't believe my taste buds.  I hadn't been able to eat or drink since midnight the night before, so having something to drink (with ice in it!) just made my day.

Before the scan, I went to a quiet room and the nurse injected two vials of radioactive dye into my IV for contrast during the scan.  The nurse instructed me to stay quietly in my big, comfortable chair so the dye could move through my entire body.  AND, she covered me with TWO warm blankets.  Heaven.  The wait for the scan was about forty-five minutes and I certainly can't complain about having to be still and comfortable in a quiet room.  Pure heaven!

The scan itself was another easy, peasy procedure. The bed of the scanner moves forward (or backward depending on your perspective) every two minutes until you're done ... about 8 times or 16 minutes in all.  Once your head comes out the other end, you can move your arms a little and look around the room.  It's not noisy either ... not at ALL like the dreaded MRI.  In fact, it was one of the most relaxing 16 minutes I've had in a long time!
I wish I'd had my camera because right above me when I came out the other side was a beautiful lighted image of leaves ... very relaxing and so, so nice.

Here's a picture of the actual pet scan machine they used for me.  The light right above the machine is the one with the beautiful images of leaves. See how narrow the machine is?  It's the BEST!